Page 66 of Her Last Breath

Chapter 42

Though inside she was seething with anger, Jane drove her team on, channelling her turmoil into urgent demands that they find evidence that would crack the case open.

All morning the team hammered the phones, chased down leads. Looking out at their committed energy, Jane reflected on how far they had come since her first day. It felt as though they had been working together for years, everyone on board with her. She knew making them focus on this investigation meant their caseload was stalling. The machete attack at the drug farm, the Albanian trafficking victims. Jane had pushed newer cases to as many other teams as she could, but knew her officers were being torn in two. She saw how they dashed off e-mails and made rapid calls, dousing fires while their focus remained on finding a serial killer. She got it. This was new, exciting even, whereas the other cases were crimes they came across again and again, unfortunately.

As afternoon broke into bright sunshine, Jane conversely started to feel anxiety steal over her. She looked out over Burnley, seeing if she could spot her childhood home. She wondered what her mother made of her absence. Wondered what state her aunt was in.

She’d managed to keep all thoughts of Ed at bay thus far, knowing that if she dwelt on what he’d endured, it would devastate her. She couldn’t do that. Not yet.

The ringtone of her phone came at an opportune moment, breaking into her reverie. It was DS Johnson.

‘Ma’am, we’ve had a tip-off about the van. It’s been spotted near some playing fields in Townley Park. I’ll ping you the details now.’

Nearly tripping over herself as she raced through the office, Jane was waylaid by DC Chan as she made for the door.

‘You need to look at this, ma’am.’

Torn between DS Johnson’s urgent summons and DC Chan’s ability to unearth important nuances in a case, Jane stalled momentarily for the latter. Across DC Chan’s screen, she saw the white van crawling along in grainy black and white footage.

‘I don’t understand; I’ve seen this before.’

‘This is Warburton Avenue. It’s right around the corner from where Bill Hargreaves lived. Dated thirteenth August, 10 a.m.; fits in with the estimated time of death for him. We have our link, our killer at all three murder sites using the same mode of transport.’

‘Elaine, I could kiss you right now. Especially because DS Johnson just called to say we know where the van is.’

Without hesitating any longer, Jane sprinted to her car, punching on her blues and twos, speeding across Burnley to Townley Park.

The location in the satnav showed a distance of ten minutes from the station, but Jane felt she could make it six. Punching the accelerator, she tore through red lights, skirting lines of traffic in her desperation to get to the scene as fast as possible. If they had found the van, if there was forensic evidence inside, then this could be the moment that they finally broke the case. Pulling up sharply in a nondescript street, Jane left the flashing blue lights on as she jumped from the driver’s seat. But as she did so, she felt her stomach sink. Even from the road she could see thick black smoke billowing into the bright sky, the echoing hiss of fire extinguishers filling the air.

Moments later, Jane was standing beside DS Johnson, watching fire fighters tackle the flames.

‘Fuck,’ she hissed, gutted.

‘Sorry, ma’am,’ said DS Johnson.

Acrid smoke drifted into his throat, making him cough.

‘What happened?’ she asked when he had taken some deep breaths.

‘We got reports of the van being seen in the area, so I sent uniform to look for it. Shortly afterwards, a member of the public reported a vehicle on fire. When emergency response got here, they matched the registration number to our BOLO request.’

Jane watched on for the time it took the fire crew to rally and extinguish the fire. Once they had confirmed this to Pawel Kowalcyzk, who was on standby with his team, he walked over to Jane and DS Johnson, looking dejected.

‘Accelerant was used according to the fire people; the flames ripped through the inside of the vehicle and as you can see, there’s significant damage to the exterior too.’

Jane surveyed the area around the van. It was a playing field, surrounded by dense conifers. The entrance to the fields was from the main road, but she couldn’t spot any buildings with a view across the pitch.

‘Let’s do a full check on movements in and out of the road leading to the field,’ she said to DS Johnson. ‘Pawel, any chance you can salvage anything from the interior?’

‘No promises but, yes, fire doesn’t destroy everything, so maybe we will get lucky.’

‘Could do with some of that,’ DS Johnson said, digging his hands deep in his coat pockets.

‘It’s a breakthrough. We have the physical vehicle our killer’s been using,’ Jane tried to reassure him, biting back her frustration.

The rush she had felt from DS Johnson’s phone call, the parallel discovery of the van outside Bill Hargreaves’ home, had fostered in her the conviction that their killer was within reach, about to be flushed out. All of this had come crashing down around her now. The physical destruction of the van seemed to mirror the devastation she was feeling inside, her professional and personal life seemingly in ruins.

Thoughts of Melody and her mother crowded her head, as Ed crept along its edges, demanding she do something. Alice Rogers, Mark Burrows and now Bill Hargreaves filled the remaining gaps, just as eager for justice. The oppressiveness of these uninvited guests was taking its toll on her. Jane just hoped she wasn’t stretched so far that she would snap, failing everyone around her. Including herself.